I thought of the spring blooms at Lowood in Jane Eyre, and more generally of the novels of the Brontë sisters, who had lived in the West Riding of Yorkshire and whose novels had accompanied me from my pre-teen years through graduate school and on to a professional life in the academy as a Victorianist. What was clear to me in that post-COVID spring was that the landscape in which the Brontës lived shaped their experience of the natural world and lent specificity to their narratives. A specificity that demanded what I thought of as a kind of field-guide to the novels—what the Victorians called a “flora,” and which in the book excerpted here, I call a botany. (Read more)
Film Threat reviews Wuthering Heights: House Of The Damned.Charlotte, the debut novel by Elizabeth Ferris, is a historical reimagining of Charlotte Brontë’s life during the turbulent year she wrote Jane Eyre. Facing rejection from publishers, financial pressures, and expectations that women abandon their literary ambitions, Brontë refuses to surrender her dream of becoming a novelist.Ferris is a writer and writing teacher based in West Virginia. She holds an MFA from Queens University of Charlotte and has taught at the Studio School at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts and Richmond Young Writers.Charlotte will be published by William Morrow on April 6, 2027, the anniversary of Jane Eyre’s publication. It is available for pre-order now!Debutiful is honored to reveal the cover of Charlotte, designed by Elsie Lyons. Below, Ferris discusses drawing inspiration from the Brontë Parsonage Museum, incorporating the tools of Charlotte Brontë’s writing life, and how a simple ink blot captures the determination and frustration of one of literature’s most celebrated authors.While writing the book, did you have any ideas for what you wanted the cover to look like?So much of writing Charlotte was about trying to live inside Charlotte Brontë’s head—seeing through her eyes, feeling through her consciousness. I think I didn’t dare conceive of a cover for fear it would break that spell, make me too self-conscious to take on the task of embodying such an iconic and mused-about author.Can you explain what the design process was like once you started working with your publishing team?My editor, Jen, and her assistant Katie asked me to pull together some examples of recent covers I liked, as well as tell them anything I didn’t want in a cover. As a first time author, I was not expecting to be invited to have this much input—it was exciting, but also a bit daunting! We knew we wanted to have some element that gestured at the writing process itself—since the heart of the novel is really Charlotte’s struggle to produce Jane Eyre. It was Jen’s idea to feature a quill. The Brontë Parsonage Museum in Haworth has preserved much of the paraphernalia of Charlotte, Emily, and Anne’s writing life, so we were able to use their photographs as reference. I’m not a visual artist, and I’m a big believer in letting experts do their thing, so I really only had one request: If you do include an image of Charlotte Brontë, don’t make her look too pretty or too docile.What was it like seeing your finalized cover for the first time?It took me a long time to draft Charlotte, including multiple revisions with my agent. I kept expecting each new step of the process to be the one that made it feel “real”—the first meeting with an interested editor, getting the offer, signing the contract, etc. In the end, it was seeing the book cover with the title and my name on it that convinced me I had really written a book and it was going to be published. There was also something full circle about the experience—I wrote a debut novel about Charlotte Brontë writing her debut novel (and like Charlotte I had a previous, unpublished attempt)—so I felt as if I was joining her in the experience of seeing that effort become tangible.How does the cover work to convey what the book is all about?I love my cover! I think book covers are a gut thing. Do you want to pick up the book? Does the cover suggest a world you are compelled to enter? The cover Elsie Lyons created feels fresh and feminine, but also like it has the promise of tension and frustration. If there is one word that I would use to describe the Charlotte Brontë I met through my research and that I hoped to make live for readers, it is indefatigable. I love the ink blot that forms the “O” of Charlotte’s name. When I see that ink blot, I see Charlotte—fierce, frustrated, determined. That’s the Charlotte Brontë I fell in love with over the course of writing this book and that I hope the reader will fall in love with, too.What do you think Charlotte Brontë would think about the cover?I’ve thought a lot about what Charlotte Brontë would think of my attempt to represent her—as well as all the adaptations and think pieces about her work and life. My sense is she would be equal parts self-conscious and vindicated. She was someone who both craved recognition and shrank from the idea of exposure. Charlotte’s first creative ambition was actually to be an illustrator, so I think she would appreciate the vividness and intricacy of the patterned background. I suspect she would also love all the small details and flourishes that exist inside the book. This would be familiar to her—while book cover designs were not common in her time, touches of illustration and design inside the pages of a book were.
Hirani at least highlights the most gothic aspect of the Brontë source material: the doomed couple fit only for each other angle. That Heathcliff and Catherine are both far too dark for this world, yet perfect for each other, makes the pair ripe for the Gomez and Morticia treatment. Instead, Wuthering Heights: House Of The Damned just makes Heathcliff a psycho prick, and gives us a Catherine who is dead. Also, Townsend-Green strikes exactly the wrong chord by playing Lockwood for laughs. The whole stuffy-as-funny makes his suffering impossible to take seriously. He comes off as a hifalutin Mr. Bill, there for comic relief from watching him get clobbered repeatedly. And I mean repeatedly.The biggest problem with Wuthering Heights: House Of The Damned is how it just goes into the murk and stays there. Once it gives you a taste of its brand of cruelty, it repeats the brutality until the clock runs out. It ends up being one note, like toast with too much Vegemite on it. At one point near the end, the audience is treated to squeezing boils FX, in close-up. Imagine the planning and preparation for “Boil Day” in the production, now try to picture how that didn’t send up a warning flare. As Nina Garcia says on those fashion competitions: “Your level of taste concerns me.” Wuthering Heights: House Of The Damned ends up being a long slog up and down Buggery Hall until you fall flat. May make a decent sleep aid. (Michael Talbot-Haynes)
Speaking of reading a lot, one thing I loved about this novel is how it’s in conversation with the nineteenth-century novel. There’s a wonderful meta-moment about halfway through that I can’t stop thinking about. Louise senses a sympathetic response from her awful nosy neighbor, and Fremlin compares it to “the warm, genuine sorrow that an author can feel for his heroine when he is about to plunge her into yet worse disaster.” I don’t think I’d be brave enough to include a moment like this, but I love the way that it hearkens back to writers like Trollope, and there are definite Jane Eyre vibes in the ending.Yes, and Greek tragedy is in there too. Throughout the novel, Vera Brandon keeps mentioning Medea, and you could say that in a way, Fremlin was trying to update Medea for the contemporary era. As I said, I don’t know if Fremlin was reading crime fiction when she wrote this book. I think she was just so interested in domestic life and figuring out the darkness that lay not so far beneath the surface, and that was what she was preoccupied with. I think at one point she said that her favorite things were gossip and what people were up to, and just the day-to-day vagaries of life. This was somebody who really drew a lot of inspiration from what we might characterize as “mundane,” but clearly she saw so much rich material to mine in those situations. (Polly Stewart)
“Jane Eyre” has been haunting my life since high school. This may seem strange, but after completing a thesis project on Charlotte Brontë’s novels my senior year, I continue to see its tropes and versions of its characters everywhere. The “crazy first wife” or “madwoman in the attic” trope was popularized by “Jane Eyre” and, despite the changes that the trope has undergone, our culture still appears fascinated with how this trope portrays the dark female psyche. Bertha Mason — Mr. Rochester’s first wife — and Jane provide symbolism and commentary beyond their characters, making the novel compelling even all these years later. However, many modern interpretations often lack this nuance and focus on the “madwoman” aspect to create more thriller-esque works (hello, “Verity”).In “Jane Eyre,” Bertha serves as a dark mirror of Jane and essentially is the hidden and repressed side of Jane’s personality. With Bertha’s desperation to escape the locked attic and cause destruction in Jane’s life at Thornfield Hall, she is the embodiment of the violent and angry parts of Jane that are begging to be seen. While her symbolic existence as Jane’s darkness diminishes her as a character in her own right, it makes for more development of Jane’s characterization, feelings and reactions, stemming from her childhood all the way to becoming Mr. Rochester’s second wife.Jean Rhys’ “Wide Sargasso Sea” — a companion novel that serves as a postcolonial critique of “Jane Eyre” — explores Bertha’s marriage to Mr. Rochester, and seeks to correct the lack of characterization that Bertha receives. The book goes a step further by delving into her Creole heritage and implying Mr. Rochester is at fault for the devolution from the bright young woman at the start of the novel to the deranged woman seen in “Jane Eyre.” The relationship between these two books also depicts an aspect of the narrative that is common in modern versions of “the crazy first wife” trope: The husband is usually the driving factor in the wife’s descent into “madness.”While more recent works like “Verity” and “The Housemaid” are both variations of this “madwoman” trope, where the first wife appears “crazy” to the new woman in the house by the admission of the often-suspect husband, they don’t include the original context of having the “madwoman in the attic” as a representation of the darkness within the main protagonist’s psyche. They instead use the mystery surrounding the “crazed” first wife and why she’s locked up as a vehicle for the protagonist’s conflict with the love interest, rather than as an opportunity to explore the dark nature shared between the first wife and the repressed psyche of the protagonist. [...]While I enjoy seeing homages to the beloved “Jane Eyre,” modern media should strive to more wholly incorporate the dark, unpleasant thoughts that are often inherent to womanhood without commiting to demonizing their characters. The internet is obsessed with society’s acceptance, or lack thereof, regarding “complex female characters,” but I hope that we are moving away from separating the “madwoman” from the heroine. (Maeve McGinn)
by Anne MontfortOctober 20-21, 2026Centre Culturel SuïsseQue reste-t-il des grandes passions lorsqu'elles traversent les siècles, les continents et les héritages coloniaux ? En faisant dialoguer Les Hauts de Hurlevent d'Emily Brontë avec La Migration des cœurs de Maryse Condé, cette création réunit cinq comédien·ne·s aux parcours multiples pour faire entendre une histoire où l'amour, la violence et la vengeance se transmettent de génération en génération. Ancrée dans les Caraïbes, la pièce révèle les rapports de domination, de race et de classe déjà timidement présents chez Brontë, tout en laissant les fantômes du passé hanter le présent.
by Emily BrontëAdapted by Gianni ClementiDirected by Francesco Bellomo and Carmine D'AmicsWith Giulio Corso, Federica De Benedittis, Jun Ichikawa, Gabriele Giusti, Shaen Barletta, Massimiliano Vado.October 20-25Teatro Sala Umberto, Via della Mercede, 50, 00187 Roma RM, ItalyUna storia d’amore assoluta e devastante, una relazione profondamente disturbata, quasi ossessiva, immersa in un’atmosfera gotica intensa e visionaria. Ombre, vento, silenzi e spazi sospesi evocano un mondo inquieto e primordiale, dove il paesaggio non è semplice sfondo, ma riflesso vivo dell’anima tormentata dei protagonisti. Le brughiere diventano così un luogo mentale prima ancora che reale: uno spazio emotivo attraversato da desiderio, rabbia, assenza e memoria.Sul palcoscenico prende forma un legame che oggi potremmo definire “tossico”, dominato da una dipendenza emotiva radicale, da ritorni improvvisi, fughe, silenzi e autentici ghosting ante litteram. Heathcliff e Catherine si cercano incessantemente e, nello stesso tempo, si respingono; si desiderano fino all’annientamento e si feriscono con ferocia. Il loro amore non conosce misura né pace: è un sentimento che divora, che consuma, che supera i limiti della morale e perfino quelli della vita stessa.La scena restituisce questa tensione continua attraverso immagini potenti e visionarie, trasformando il sentimento in qualcosa di viscerale, oscuro e inquieto. Il confine tra passione e ossessione si dissolve progressivamente, lasciando emergere una relazione fatta di attrazione magnetica e distruzione reciproca. Ogni gesto, ogni assenza, ogni parola trattenuta amplifica il senso di un amore impossibile da vivere e impossibile da spegnere.Eppure, proprio dentro questa dinamica estrema e dolorosa, si nasconde una verità disarmante: quella tra Heathcliff e Catherine resta, comunque, una delle più grandi storie d’amore mai raccontate. Un amore che sfida il tempo, la morte e le convenzni sociali; un legame che continua a sopravvivere come una ferita aperta, feroce e immortale.Ed è forse proprio questa sua natura contraddittoria — insieme sublime e distruttiva — a renderla ancora oggi così contemporanea, necessaria e profondamente uiomana.
Haworth MoorStart/finish: Haworth / Hebden BridgeDistance: 12.5 miles [...]Take a bus from hip Hebden Bridge to hilltop Haworth – where the Brontë sisters lived – and walk back. You get literary shivers: from Haworth’s Brontë Museum, you’re soon up on wild, windy Haworth Moor, heading for the ruined farmhouse of Top Withens, possible inspiration for Wuthering Heights. Then you get a bit of wild Pennine Way, via heathery uplands and the Walshaw Dean reservoirs. Then the world changes completely, as you descend into the enchanted, river-tinkled gorge of Hardcastle Crags. (Sarah Baxter)
Quick lightning round! Tell us: [...][The book] that you can’t stop thinking about: Wuthering Heights (Elise Dumpleton)
by Dr. Pankaj YadavIntegral Research, 3(9), 27-37 (2026) https://doi.org/10.57067/Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë is a book that doesn't fit neatly into the typical Victorian love story category. When people adapt the book into movies or plays, they often focus on the intense relationship between Catherine and Heathcliff, making it seem like a classic romance. But this overlooks the dark themes of violence, mental abuse and revenge that run throughout the novel. This study looks at how Brontë challenges traditional ideas of romantic love, turning passion into a driving force that consumes everything in its path. By exploring different viewpoints, including feminist, psychological and philosophical perspectives, we can see that desire in Wuthering Heights is not about romantic harmony, but rather a rebellion against the societal norms of the time. It's a powerful force that destroys not just the individuals involved, but also the world around them. In dismantling the division between self and other, the desire of Catherine and Heathcliff manifests as psychic fragmentation, necrophilic dissolution, imperialist appropriation of property and bodies. The novel illustrates that when desire demands absolute transcendence beyond social, physical and metaphysical limits, it inevitably consummates itself in annihilating violence, leaving genuine reconciliation to the domestic and subdued realm of the next generation.
Also leeching away any sense of feeling is the director’s insistence on shooting many indoor scenes with natural lighting. Cinematographer Arnaud Potier casts a pall over every room, shadows dominating at times, giving forth the impression we’ve wandered into Emily Bronte territory and are watching “Wuthering Heights” instead. Visual bridges of spider’s spinning webs, quiet views of meadows and other esoteric matters go a long way toward underscoring the languid pacing of an ordinary day in the early 19th century. However, they contribute nothing to the narrative momentum. (Chuck Koplinski)
Jane Eyre 2011¡Mi preferida aunque no sea una película de terror al 100%! Esta adaptación dirigida por Cary Joji Fukunaga tiene todos los ingredientes para conquistar a las amantes de la época victoriana y del romance gótico.Mia Wasikowska interpreta a Jane, una joven institutriz que se enamora del enigmático Mr. Edward Rochester, interpretado por Michael Fassbender. Entre historias de fantasmas, secretos familiares y ruidos extraños en Thornfield Hall, esta historia es la de un amor que va más allá de la propia carne. (Aura Carpio) (Translation)
Presentada por el cineasta en el Festival de Sitges, la película llegará a España de la mano de Filmin y de Elastica Films. En Sitges, el público la recibía con una ovación y una presentación que la señalaba como la respuesta queer a Cumbres borrascosas, en referencia a la adaptación de la novela de Emily Brontë que, a inicios de este año, protagonizaban Jacob Elordi y Margot Robbie. (Miguel Ángel Romero) (Translation)
by Niall GildeaEnglish Studies, 1–21 (2026). https://doi.org/10.1080/0013838X.2026.2742213The Tenant of Wildfell Hall’s narrative structure has been a consistent and prominent focus of the novel's reception. What these readings have in common is that they see as the novel’s structure tout court a particular rendition of its structure, namely that it comprises two letters from Gilbert Markham to his brother-in-law, Jack Halford, the second of which transcribes and encloses a journal spanning six years, written by the novel's titular tenant, Helen Graham. Conventionally, interpretations of this structure have considered the function of the enclosure of Helen's narrative by Gilbert's. This article argues that another reading of the novel’s form is available, whereby it may be shown to have a latent triplicate textual and metatextual structure, where no single element predominates. This enables a reading of Tenant as an ethicising of writing as a form of necessarily incomplete labour, aiding our understanding of its important political and theological dimensions.
While I applaud the avid creativity it took to make the classic romance into a supernatural horror, the film’s lack of fleshed out thoughts left me wanting more.This spooky retelling takes place after the events of the original story have concluded. Spoiler alert - Heathcliff’s lover, Catherine (Elle O’Hara), died tragically in childbirth and Heathcliff is beside himself. However, the haunting reimagining begins here, when Healthcliff (Sky Cheema) raises Catherine’s spirit and, essentially, damns her to an eternity in the Wuthering Heights estate. We then fast forward to a new face, a landlord named Lockwood (Ross Townsend-Green), who travels to the estate to greet Heathcliff for the first time. Alas, this visit will prove to be detrimental to Lockwood’s physical and mental wellbeing. He begins seeing visions of a veiled woman wandering the halls, and having nightmares about horrific things happening in the estate. His visions, though completely outlandish on the surface, appear to come true, and Lockwood suspects that Heathcliff may be hiding a terrifying secret.For starters, I must say that this is not a direction I ever imagined Brontë’s dark romance story going. I applaud the creativity it took to combine a well-known classic with a supernatural horror element; the novelty of this genre helps it stand out amongst larger features. However, the way that the horror is executed throughout The House of the Damned is frankly unimpressive. The story spends a lot of time using flashbacks that call out the original story, which serves as a good reminder at times, but impairs the viewer’s ability to engage with the new elements of the story. It was also difficult to ignore the frequent use of jump scares, many of which occurred in a similar pattern: Lockwood awakes at night and wanders the house, and then he sees a terrible image of a bloodied woman in a mirror or something. The scare factor wears off after the first two attempts, and after that it becomes a bore.The repetitive nature of many of this film’s plot aspects are truly what holds it back from being a semi-decent horror-classic twist. As with the jump scares, so many of the novel ideas in this film are clouded by attempts to copy the style and feel of other writers. The dialogue (especially during the flashbacks) at times felt like it was pulled directly from the original novel, which typically would not be a point to critique, but it often felt clunky and out of place. The actor’s actual delivery of the lines sounded almost Shakespearean, which took me out of the horror more than once while watching. Not to mention, the accents the actors were forced to put on were painful to the ears, especially Catherine’s and Cathy’s (Anna Coupe). The delivery of these accents paired with the overdramatic dialogue created a dynamic that is typically only seen in community theater. The ideas behind The House of the Damned are refreshing in the horror world, but these ideas were buried by an attempt to fit in with the crowd.Wuthering Heights: The House Of The Damned feels more like a sketch than a completed work of art, but I truly admire the real attempts made in The House of the Damned to create something unique that still recalls an original story. I think it’s safe to say that, despite its flaws, this film ultimately took me on a different journey than I expected to go on. I hope to see more films like this in the future, perhaps not with fake British accents. (Heidi Krull)
The characters and some similar plot points are here, but they are twisted into more overt horror archetypes. The foundation of this movie is in Heathcliff’s mission of killing people as sacrifices in an attempt to bring Catherine back to life. From the write-ups I’ve read, it sounds like the movie mostly adapts parts of the second half of the book. But, again, it’s all twisted up in blood and gore. (Chris Catt)
The House of the Damned has a few great ideas, but it lacks the creative inspiration to execute them well. Fennell’s Wuthering Heights has absolutely no ideas, but it’s way too busy masturbating to care. I’ve been in both camps — especially the second one — and I honestly can’t tell you which one is better. ( Rob DiCristino)
The result is a film that respects the atmosphere and emotional foundations of its literary inspiration while gleefully embracing the possibilities of horror filmmaking.There are moments of genuine unease, moments of unexpected humor, and moments of gloriously excessive practical gore. But beneath those pleasures is a thoughtful appreciation for the craft of filmmaking, evident in the relationship between camera movement, editing, production design, costume, performance, music, and sound.Rebecca J. Matthews has found a wonderfully wicked way to breathe new life—and perhaps a little undead life—into Wuthering Heights. And damned if it isn’t fun! (Debbie Elias)
I have always been a Brontë girl rather than an Austen one — it is not really something that I have to think about; the dreamy, desolate moors excite me much more than Jane Austen's books, where one very acclaimed, very viral review stated that the her novels were only about going to each other's houses.Charlotte Brontë too thought that Austen's works were devoid of warmth, enthusiasm and deep emotion, stating that 'the passions are deeply unknown to her'.I confess, I had arrived to the same conclusion in different words. Austen wasn't for me, she lacked the fiery passion of Wuthering Heights, the fierce steadfastness of Jane Eyre and the determination of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. I first encountered Pride and Prejudice in the second year of university and I did enjoy it, but I loved how my teacher taught it more than the actual experience of reading the novel. Her prose often felt too stiff, and the characters too restrained. (Treya Sinha)
3. MarianneAusten’s Marianne is certainly passionate, romantic, and sensitive, but the new film (played by Esmé Creed-Miles) takes her wildness to another level. Instead of a spirited young woman navigating the restrictions of polite Regency society, she often feels like she’s one minor inconvenience away from running barefoot into the woods. Hard relate, but not the time and place.And that distinction matters. Austen’s heroines are daughters of gentlemen. They’re ladies, and they exist within a very specific social world — one governed by manners, money, reputation, and, of course, the marriage market. Marianne may push against those rules, but she’s still a product of them.In this adaptation, though, that carefully constructed social world sometimes feels like an afterthought. We get less of the young woman trying to reconcile her romantic ideals with the expectations placed upon her, and more barefoot-in-the-woods Marianne. It’s giving Emily Brontë’s Cathy. (Fleurine Tideman)
And Charlotte Brontë’s 1847 novel Jane Eyre has inspired well over twenty movies and series, including a whole slate of silent films from the 1910s. Something about these nineteenth-century novels has kept each new generation of filmmakers coming back. Perhaps they are uniquely timeless in some way; maybe they are simply in the public domain. [...]We’re entering something of an adaptation renaissance. The last time this happened was around 1995, a period known as “Austenmania,” when it seemed like all of Jane Austen’s novels were hitting the big screen at once. Now, thirty years later, following the commercial success of Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights—which raked in over $80 million (US) globally on its opening weekend—a slate of new nineteenth-century adaptations is set to be released. [...]A currently under-production series will see Aimee Lou Wood portray Jane Eyre. [...]In an essay for The New Yorker on Fennell’s remake of Wuthering Heights, which has been adapted over thirty times, film critic Richard Brody contends that novels are not harmed by sloppy adaptations because “even the worst filmmakers aren’t burning the books, just misunderstanding them.” In other words, a bad adaptation doesn’t alter the text of its source material. As long as the great novel that inspired the shoddy film can still be checked out at the library, then no harm no foul, right?It depends on who you ask. The most popular review for the film on Letterboxd (an online platform for rating and discussing movies, frequented by annoying people such as myself) reads: “emily brontë died of tuberculosis 177 years ago yet this adaptation is still the worst thing that has ever happened to her.” Sure, hyperbole is the language of the internet, but over 100,000 people have liked this review, signalling some level of agreement with the idea that a bad adaptation isn’t just disappointing or aesthetically displeasing but actually offensive.The other school of thought, of course, is that “Wuthering Heights is SO good when you don’t have an English major in your ear telling you it’s nothing like the book.” That’s a post on X with almost 10,000 likes and over 5 million views. And while Brody doesn’t seem to agree that the film is “SO good,” he does put forward his own version of this sentiment. “Rushing to defend a literary source against a supposed cinematic mauling,” he says, “is often little more than an attempt to signal culturedness and education.” Books don’t need protecting, Brody suggests. Only our fragile egos do.Is that true? Is a bad adaptation a victimless crime? I can tell you that there was at least one victim of Fennell’s adaptation: me. I saw the film in theatres with friends when it came out. I’ve been a fan of the Brontë sisters since before I outgrew young adult novels, but I figured that, even if Fennell’s movie presented a shallower version of the story, it would at least be fun. Reader, it was not.But those are the stakes of making any movie: you might bore people, or irritate people, or offend people. But you’re not usually accused of making “the worst thing that has ever happened” to Emily Brontë or to anyone else. What, then, are the stakes of a bad adaptation? [...]And for what it’s worth, the posters for Fennell’s Wuthering Heights self-consciously place the title in scare quotes, signalling an emphasis on Fennell’s personal interpretation of the text, rather than fidelity to Emily Brontë’s original writing. [...]And, despite being based on a novel about abuse and trauma, Fennell’s Wuthering Heights was marketed as an adaptation of “the greatest love story of all time.” The film, which replaces class and race with sex and angst at every turn, has been dubbed the “smooth-brained” version of the novel.No book exemplifies the tension between surface text and subtext better than Charlotte Brontë’s 1849 novel Shirley, a brilliant novel but perhaps too bloated and unwieldy to ever receive a Netflix adaptation. Set against the backdrop of the Luddite riots, the novel follows two young women navigating love and friendship as their small Yorkshire town undergoes a period of rapid technological change. At the end of the novel, the titular Shirley accepts a marriage proposal from a man. This is hardly a “spoiler”; marriage was basically a necessity for any young female protagonist written in 1849. While Shirley’s story hits the beats of the marriage plot, suggesting a romantic conclusion on the surface, Brontë’s word choices imply an unhappier ending. Images of captivity haunt the language of the novel’s final pages; Shirley is “fettered,” “conquered,” “bound with a vow.” The surface text may follow the rules, but the subtext protests them—loudly. It’s no wonder that Shirley hasn’t received a big budget adaptation in over a hundred years. [...]Shortly after watching Fennell’s Wuthering Heights adaptation, I encountered a woman who told me that her adult daughter had watched the movie in theatres and loved it, having never heard of the book. This unsettled me. Maybe Wuthering Heights really is SO good without the English major in your ear. But, now, when people think of Heathcliff—who is coded as a person of colour in the novel and who experiences racist abuse at the hands of his older brother—they might be picturing Jacob Elordi. Surely something has been lost. (Amarah Hasham-Steele)
‘Jane Eyre’ (2011)Cary Joji Fukunaga directs this adaptation of Charlotte Brontë’s 1847 gothic romance novel. Mia Wasikowska portrays the orphaned governess Jane Eyre, who secures employment at Thornfield Hall under the service of the brooding Edward Rochester. Jane and Rochester develop a mutual affection, but dark secrets within the estate threaten their potential future together. Michael Fassbender co-stars in a narrative framed through non-linear flashbacks that highlight themes of class division, moral integrity, and resilience. (Arthur S. Poe)
Adapting a novel for a dynamic theatrical production presents a unique challenge. For director Jin Shengquan, the key lay in capturing Jane's rich inner life and translating her psychological journey into striking visual and musical language."When reading the novel, what stands out most is Jane's attitude toward the world. She is a woman with a rich, full inner life," Jin, who also plays Edward Rochester, told CGTN. "The biggest challenge for the stage was finding a way to externalize those internal thoughts and emotions. That led us to put Jane’s personal growth at the absolute center of our adaptation."To bring her internal conflict into sharp relief, the production introduces a creative recurring device: an "inner courtroom." In these stylized sequences, Jane faces trial under the absurd charge of "seeking affection" or "falling in love." Through resisting these voices of judgment – both external social expectations and her own internal self-doubt – Jane gradually breaks free, realizing her independence.Rather than producing a faithful Victorian period piece, the creative team deliberately localized and modernized the narrative to resonate deeply with today's Chinese audience."When interpreting a classic work like this, we must bring our own perspective," Jin explained. "We didn't want audiences to feel a sense of distance – whether from a Western literary classic or a Victorian setting."This contemporary lens dynamically reshapes the story's classic archetypes. The religious austerity of St. John is softened to reveal his human vulnerability and suppressed personal desires.Meanwhile, Edward Rochester sheds some of his traditional darkness and aggression; in an edgy modern twist, he makes his entrance riding a scooter and delivering lines through hip-hop, making his character arc and bond with Jane more relatable to contemporary viewers.Even Rochester's faithful dog, Pilot, is brought to life by a human actor whose physical performance and animalistic movement design add a vibrant, humorous energy to the stage.For lead actress Guo Yaorong, who first read Jane Eyre under her blanket as a middle school student, stepping into Jane's shoes revealed deeper layers to the iconic character."Through portraying her inner world on stage, I discovered a side of her that is sensitive, fearful, and at times unsure of how to face the world," Guo said. "Jane Eyre is a story people can truly relate to. Whatever you go through, you need to hold on to your principles, make your own choices, and set your own goals."Asked what Jane Eyre would be like if she lived in 2026, Guo believes she wouldn't necessarily be a celebrated figure. "She might just be an ordinary young woman – stubborn, staying true to her heart, particularly in her career, and living an ordinary life like anyone else."The enduring relevance of Jane Eyre in modern China – where it remains on the Ministry of Education's required reading list for students – underscores the universal power of world literature."A literary classic is a classic because it transcends national borders, languages, and generations," Jin noted. "In the global landscape of culture, we should embrace greater integration and mutual appreciation."At its core, this Chinese adaptation strip away historical distance to honor the timeless quest for self-actualization. As the musical's central anthem boldly proclaims: "I don't need to be defined. I will be myself." (Guo Meiping)
This moody gothic earns all the back-cover comparisons to Rebecca and Jane Eyre, and then some! Set in Nigeria during the lead-up to civil war, The Water House follows a reform school graduate, drifting through life and fake-engaged to a brooding widower; when scandalous revelations put an end to her relationship, she returns to her family home, a decaying estate concealing a terrible secret. (Molly Odintz)
This is a long novel, ostensibly comprised of 11 short novels, but what makes it so propulsive are the tendrils of detail that fasten each section to the next. The author presents 11 characters from birth to death, every one in some way connected to the Drayden sisters, born in a Yorkshire village in the early years of the 19th century, the daughters of a taciturn parson. Their short lives are distinguished by tragedy, but also by tremendous creativity. They each write and publish a single novel and are recognised, though fleetingly, as authors of talent and promise.If this sounds familiar, it’s because The Song of Stork and Dromedary is based on the story of the Brontë sisters. Although it ought to feel strange that it was originally written in Dutch while being set predominantly in England, this is not so; such is the skill of the author, as well as the proficiency and dynamism of the translation by David McKay. (Sara Baume)
The countryside in Austen’s novels is “an empty pastoral landscape” in which members of the gentry can roam, flirt and picnic. In Jane Eyre, by contrast, it is busy with working people of a different socioeconomic class to Charlotte Brontë’s heroine. Of the book’s 71 speaking characters, 22 aren’t named. This, allied to the impersonal, transactional exchanges that “orphaned, friendless, solitary” Jane has with these coachmen, ostlers and shopkeepers, captures the indifference of the modern, commercial world. Interestingly, Menon posits that in a narrative about someone trapped by their situation, this kind of alienation might also be liberating. (Chris Power)
The Brontë Sisters UK publishes a video about Jane Eyre 1973.
Inkwell Arts and Learning presentby Alissa FrewenDirector: Lara FilipOriginal Music by Willa Zatzenboom
With Sylar Mcclure, Faiz Siddique, Margaret Rogers, Bradley Lauber, Ryan Adams, Grace Burman, Gwenny Hayes, Jojo Nagwangu, Austin Hartung, Zola Pineda, Alexander Wisniewski, Olivia Sulisz.October 17 (low impact walking play), October 18, 24, 25 at 16.00hWuthering Heights has been on our shortlist of books to adapt for a long time. However, it felt a little too obscure, maybe a little too complex a story to tackle. There really hadn’tbeen a truly faithful adaptation of it...well...ever.Then, a new, splashy campaign of ads came out for the new 2026 movie version! How exciting! Maybe there will be a new, faithful retelling of Bronte’s story! Or... Maybe not.To be clear...I think it’s a beautiful film, and the creator was very clear that this was a teenage, fever-dream, re-imagined adaptation. I appreciated the creativity and beauty of it, but it left me even more eager to begin rehearsals for our production, so we could dig into the text and themes of the book as it was originally intended.At its heart, Wuthering Heights is not a story of lust, or violence or even longing...although there are plenty of those thematic moments. For me, it asks a question of whether (wuther?) or not, we can rise above generational trauma to find redemption and the love we all deserve.It also is a story rooted fully in the period, but also incredibly universal in its exploration of the changes brought about by the Industrial Revolution. The disruption to the social and class systems and the pushback against the gentry of the time feel chillingly relevant, if you think about it. There was a sort of collapse of the “Real Wives of the Aristocracy” versus the “New Money” kids, coming up in the world and pushing the boundaries that had held society together up to that point.There’s also an even simpler truth. We should tell people we love them. Straight up. Just tell them. Maybe be honest about your hopes and fears and discuss the obstacles to your happiness with the people who can help change your destiny. Also, maybe just go ahead and change your destiny yourself anddon’t make rash decisions...(CATHY!!)But, ALSO, maybe Cathy needed help shedidn’t know how to ask for. Mental health becomes a sort of shadowy, extra character in the story. Ghosts feel very real when we feel the pain Heathcliff carries from the moment he is “adopted” into this family. Nelly certainly has some narcissistic tendencies, ifwe’re being honest.Ultimately, this story and the moors themselves give us space to ask ourselves how we might give ourselves a real chance at loveand truth.Without hope, no story is worth telling for me...and though we have to traverse a brutal path, it does shine through in the end. I think that journey is well worth that destination. And I believe Alyssa has finally given the world a beautiful, faithful retelling of this tale.I hope you love it as much as we’ve learned to.
A brooding Brontë is just the thing for an autumn evening, and this latest revival of Charlotte’s Jane Eyre hits the spot with its atmospheric staging. It’s suitably gothic, for sure, but with a modern update. The minimalist set is nothing more than a stack of black bleachers with large speakers on the steps. [...]Here, it’s all done in a highly stylised way. The actors play several characters: we see them as young pupils, clergymen, teachers and servants. At one point, they brilliantly march in unison under dramatic monochrome lighting.The stage changes little – there are the bleachers and then the attic, with the set rotated by the actors. But the way these elements are used is incredible – there’s a striking scene featuring Jane’s bridal veil flowing down the stairs. At one point, the stairs are alight. The speakers glow to reflect the mood, with Jane’s inner monologue projected through them.Olivia Marcus plays Jane Eyre as a down-to-earth Yorkshire woman, all too aware of her plainness. Gabriel Akuwudike makes a commanding Edward Rochester, while Robyn Rose-Li, as Bertha, is mesmerising to watch as she sings, cries and laughs manically in the attic. However, this Victorian portrayal of mental illness is uncomfortable through a modern lens.The first 20 minutes of the show feel rather long – Jane’s miserable life on repeat could have been condensed. But then the pace really picks up. The staging is incredible, and the music works well. At a couple of points, I couldn’t quite hear the dialogue, but it’s a minor point.It’s certainly the year for a Brontë revival, with Emily’s Wuthering Heights taking the box office by storm. Now it’s Charlotte’s turn, with two major theatrical productions of Jane Eyre running. This version makes a compelling case for revisiting the classics, pairing gothic gloom and dark secrets with bold, inventive theatre.
Lily Dyble’s production of Jane Eyre at the Rose Theatre, Kingston neatly avoids all the potential pitfalls of adapting a classic for the stage that many people will have read at school for English Literature GCSE. It doesn’t distract the audience from the heart of the story with lots of period detail and lavish stage effects, nor does it treat the book like a Ming vase – something precious that needs huge caution in the handling, if it is to be done right and avoid disappointing lovers of the original novel. Nor does it go in for all-out subversion and hold the text accountable for attitudes that we now find questionable, thereby spoiling what made it enjoyable in the first place.Dyble fully trusts the text but never takes it as read. She treats Charlotte Brontë’s novel with love and respect, but not reverence. The direction and design have a modern, contemporary look – Khadija Raza’s original and effective costumes are very definitely not 19th-century, but there is absolutely no suggestion that it is set in the present. Above all, this adaptation maintains the spark of the original, very much assisted by the strong chemistry between Olivia Marcus’s Jane and Gabriel Akuwudike’s Rochester.This production is based on an adaptation by Sally Cookson, Mike Akers, and The Original Company that was first performed at National Theatre in 2015. It retains much of Charlotte Brontë’s original text at its most powerful but is far from slavish in its treatment. There is a huge amount of plot to get through, and it is impressive that this treatment never feels rushed or superficial.Anna Yates’ set looks stark and simple. The stage is almost completely filled with a black staircase, containing 10 huge hi-fi speakers that glow with their own light in the darkness and can be moved about to suggest different locations. Any cynical thoughts that this was done purely to provide a cheap, adaptable, but always highly effective set are displaced by some surprises in Act Two (no spoilers here). At moments of crisis, different acoustically adapted voices interrupt one another to depict the overwhelming nature of Jane’s emotions. Composer and Sound Designer Joseff Harris does much to enhance the mood without providing distraction. The doubling of many roles (in some cases tripling) is very appropriate, as the audience is made to see that the memories of her oppressors are very much still alive in Jane’s head.This production gives full weight to the high degree of bullying that Jane experiences, both from her aunt and her family, and then at the ghastly Lowood School, a receiving house for unwanted girls, designed to humiliate and terrorise them into submission but also to train them to be governess fodder (as happened to the three Bronte sisters). The stark power imbalance faced by 19th-century women, especially those with no money of their own, is vividly conveyed, with the pupils reminiscent of the unfortunate women in The Handmaid’s Tale. Remarkably, Jane never sees herself as a victim and doesn’t indulge in feisty defiance for the sake of it. When she takes a stand, it is always on a matter of principle, and she remains rock solid in her determination. Olivia Marcus plays the part with a blunt Yorkshire accent, which is unexpected but absolutely right. [...]The attraction between Olivia Marcus’s Jane and Gabriel Akuwudike’s Rochester is subtly but effectively conveyed. Akuwudike’s Rochester is surprisingly young for someone wounded by a disastrous first marriage. There is a glib and charming shiftiness – but with significant vulnerability underneath - that helpfully makes him less of the cliched brooding romantic hero. Kate Kordel doubles effectively as the bullying Aunt Reed and the kindly Mrs Fairfax. The production gives proper attention to the first Mrs Rochester, vividly played by Robyn Rose-Li, and makes the most of the many resemblances between Brontë’s novel and that other Great Romantic Classic, Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca.The question of how to stage a story as classic as Jane Eyre is always open to debate, whether you are faithful to the original or offer something new and contemporary. While this production is perhaps far less radical than it might have initially seemed on the surface, it is still a nuanced and effective rendition of the classic story. (Patrick Shorrock)
Among the cast, Andrea Gatchalian offers a convincing portrayal of the ailing Helen as well as the irrepressible Adele, Kate Kordel pairs an initially unbending Aunt Reed with a Mrs Fairfax who also comes to see Jane’s qualities over time, and Leo Wan as Mason makes the complexities of this story rather clearer than is sometimes the case.Both central roles are extremely well cast, with Gabriel Akuwudike’s Rochester, despite the RP accent, a wholly convincing anti-hero. Opposite him, Olivia Marcus embodies both the Jane of the book and the rather more forthright and powerful figure of Cookson’s adaptation. Her portrayal is quite rightly the centre of the production and her spirit and determination are totally convincing in this impressive performance.It’s good to see work of this quality being produced by regional theatres, and creatives being given the opportunity to work on mid-scale productions. After playing at Colchester and Kingston, the production tours to Newcastle and Chester. It’s an inventive and absorbing production, well worth seeing if it comes near you. (Chris Abbott)
Olivia Marcus' (Bad Education, These Demons and The Mirror and the Light) portrayal of Jane is wonderfully spot on and a far cry from the comedy acting she presented in Bad Education.And the London-born actor's Yorkshire accent was almost perfect and super fitting for a plot set in West Yorkshire.Marcus should be incredibly proud of hearself in being at the heart of the production and producing a believable portrayal of Jane from childhood (she is only 10 at the start) to becoming a woman.And her depiction of the infamous romance between Jane and Rochester, played by Gabriel Akuwudike (Hamnet and Shetland 10), has the audience both on the edge of their seats in that typical 'will they, won't they ' manner, and swooning when the pair eventually make out.The chemistry between Marcus and the characters is electric and a wonderful depiction of the old-school love story.On that note, Akuwudike plays Rochester excellently, doing a brilliant job of portraying the traditional stoic and mysterious yet oddly charming male love interest that often appears in similar love stories. [...]However, I must say that Andrea Gatchalian, who plays Helen and Adele in Dyble's production, stole the show for me.Beginning the production as Helen before swapping to Rochester's French ward Adèle, I was amazed at Catchalian's ability to make her child characters believable and to mimic the Scottish and French accents that her characters adopt, so perfectly.While her portrayal of Helen almost brought me to tears, the actor's depiction of Adèle was a firm favourite of mine, with her ability to make the audience laugh in a play that explores the power imbalance between men and women of the 19th century and themes of mental health.Another showstopper for me is Robyn Rose-Li, who plays Bertha. Despite having one scene, her dramatic yet heartbreaking monologue depicts Bertha's mental health struggles so authentically that it is almost scary. [...]Dyble's production as a whole is incredible as it intertwines moments of heartache and fear and religious undertones with laughter, friendship, love and musical elements, which to my surprise had me bobbing my shoulders up and down rhythmically, while also exploring themes of mental health and romance as well as following Brontë's feminist plot.
It all begins in February, when Emerald Fennell, whose millennial sensibilities have a unique resonance with the digitally native, released Wuthering Heights. The flashy Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi-fronted film heaved its bosom to more than $240 million at the global box office, along with a rare prize: mainstream popularity. It further proved its cultural credo by becoming a flashpoint on Reddit and Letterboxd, where one review noted: “It's an adaptation that feels like a 14-year-old skimmed the book and jumped to her own conclusions without any true understanding of the novel.” [...]It’s not, necessarily, that the story is fanfiction—though that genre has been part of the Austen and Brontë universes for decades (see the Jane Eyre rewrite The Green Glass Sea [can they mean Wide Sargasso Sea?!] and the Pride & Prejudice inspired Bridget Jones’ Diary). [...]Plus, a whole slew of books. For the Brontës, there’s This Dark Night: Emily Brontë, a Life; Charlotte Brontë’s Life in Clothes, and The Invention of Charlotte Brontë. [...]For the un-indoctrinated, the contrast between the writers—the Regency-era Jane Austen, author of six books, and the Victorian Brontë sisters, who published six novels between them—has deep roots. Charlotte Brontë, author of Jane Eyre, once described Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice as: “An accurate daguerreotyped portrait of a common-place face.” She concluded, “I should hardly like to live with her ladies and gentlemen in their elegant but confined houses.”The two writers never met. Austen died in 1817, the year after the Charlotte, the eldest Brontë, was born, and their books offer markedly different pleasures. The three sisters (Emily and Anne followed Charlotte) wrote Gothic fiction and poetry. Austen satirized upper and upper middle class society’s conventions. Secrets, storms, and the wife in the attic haunt Jane Eyre, while Pride and Prejudice has pompous clergymen and Mr. Collins’s “excellent boiled potatoes.” Austen’s jokes expose the absurdities of courtship and class. Confessions and scandals may momentarily deviate from polite society, but a happily ever after is always a return to the mien. By contrast, the Brontës create worlds far beyond the mannered ton’s scope, both emotionally and geographically.That division is real, but it can also flatten a much broader literary landscape. Writers like Ann Radcliffe and Frances Burney—whose popularity in their own time might be comparable to the fame that Rebecca Yarros or Emily Henry enjoy today—are less likely to appear on a modern reader’s list. Austen and the Brontës, meanwhile, have become shorthand for different kinds of romance: one witty and social, the other dark and intense. The ability to reduce the stories to appealingly simple distinctions may help explain why it travels so well online, but that multi-media popularity is nothing new.In fact, just on the movie front, it’s nearly 90 years old. Pride & Prejudice was first adapted in 1940 with Greer Garson and Lawrence Olivier (a lost television series came two years earlier). The Orson Welles and Joan Fontaine-fronted Jane Eyre came in 1944, and ever since the writers have been constantly in our lives on the screen. [...]The Brontës have their own route into contemporary readers’ lives: Tumblr. Julia Cancilla, a Gen Z writer, found her way to Wuthering Heights through arty accounts on the famously emo social media. She first encountered the novel in quotes and illustrations but didn’t watch any of the film adaptations for a while. “I don’t even know if I really liked it when I first read it, but eventually I did and loved it,” she says. “The Austen stuff, it’s warmer, so it took me longer.” Though Mr. Darcy’s brooding gets to her. [...]In a 2005 New Yorker review of Joe Wright’s Pride and Prejudice, Anthony Lane described the film as one in which “Jane Austen has been Brontëfied.” He pointed to its windblown, misty romanticism, then wondered whether audiences could still see Austen clearly after centuries in which “the spirit of romance, and the role of the body within it, have evolved out of all recognition.” To him, Joe Wright’s adaptation felt like a collapse of the two genres. The end result was aesthetically unfaithful to the source material. Perhaps that’s true, but looking back, it’s unclear whether that was a feature or a bug. The books don’t merely live on as portals to a different era— though as Subbana’s experience proves, they do that too—they’re constantly rediscovered and remediated though Hollywood, fanfiction, and, now, TikTok. It is not faithfulness to the original that made Jane Austen and the Brontës immortal, it’s their eager adoption by each new generation.All of the new media inspired by the authors this year means that 2026 is a prime moment for Gen Z to have their first young adult understandings of the novel. Hopefully, they will then soon have their own turn to create their own turn to adapt and re-frame the original text. If history is anything to go by, we shouldn't have to wait too long to find out. (Dorothy Scarborough)
Sometimes what you need is the simple thing done well.In a year that's given us aggressively new takes on everything from Homer to Brontë, director Georgia Oakley (Blue Jean) has turned to Jane Austen and boldly dared to do something straightforward. (Boris Jancic)
And I opened my phone to see a critic complimenting the yearning romance as what Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights should have been, which made me realize how much modern filmmaking flattens classic literature about women into just one thing. It all becomes young women in dresses, traipsing through fields and falling in love—nevermind that Jane Austen is no more similar to Emily Brontë than Mel Brooks is to Christopher Nolan. (Caroline Siede)
In early 2026, Wuthering Heights has viewers in a hot debate over whether it’s a good or bad adaptation of Emily Brönte’s [suc] classic novel. While the steamy Jacob Elordi costume drama may be debated over its quality, there are other adaptations of famous books that are far worse. (Brianna Zigler)
Jane Eyre, 1847Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre follows its title character from a difficult childhood to her position as governess at Thornfield Hall, where she becomes drawn to the secretive Mr. Rochester. Jane’s independence and moral conviction shape the novel’s gothic romance, while Thornfield’s hidden history gives the story an undercurrent of suspense. A limited series could let both sides of the story unfold at a deliberate pace.Jane’s determination to claim a life on her own terms helped make her one of literature’s most enduring heroines. Her story still resonates as a coming-of-age drama about class, gender, love, and self-respect.The novel has inspired many film and television adaptations, including a popular BBC miniseries in 2006. A new BBC series starring Aimee Lou Wood as Jane is now in development, giving audiences another chance to see Brontë’s heroine and her gothic world reimagined for television. (Abby Shewmaker)
‘Wuthering Heights’ by Emily BrontëEmily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights centres on the turbulent relationship between Catherine Earnshaw, Heathcliff and Edgar Linton. Their choices create conflicts that extend beyond the original generation, affecting their families and the children who come after them.Like East of Eden, the novel explores the way love, resentment and family loyalty can become difficult to separate. Catherine’s decision to marry Edgar rather than Heathcliff sets in motion a series of consequences that affect both families, while Heathcliff turns his grief and anger into a sustained campaign of revenge. His actions ultimately draw a younger generation into conflicts they did not create.The comparison with Cathy Ames is also useful, although the characters are fundamentally different. Catherine Earnshaw is not defined by the same coldness or manipulation as Cathy, but both women make choices that have profound consequences for the people around them. Wuthering Heights shares with East of Eden an interest in relationships that resist simple definitions of love or hatred, as well as the lasting effects of choices made within one generation. (Chonx Tibajia)
Translated into English by David McKay, the storytelling remains engaging despite the narrative’s length and multiple complex plotlines. Daanje’s narrative style will be instantly recognisable to readers familiar with Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights and Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. The book seamlessly channels classical, 19th-century Gothic traditions, weaving together overlapping layers of myth, history, and obsession. (Rishita Misra)
Saturday, 17th of October, 18:30 hBrontë Birthplace, Posh ParlourThe Brontë Birthplace is delighted to welcome BBC presenter and journalist, Reeta Chakrabarti to the Brontë Birthplace for an intimate interview discussing her debut novel, Finding Belle, and the influence the Brontë sisters have had on her work.Finding Belle explores belonging and identity, and what it means to work out who you are without the usual support of family around you.
Where pornography once trod, horror has now become the genre that infiltrates and apes all others. With a host of out-of-copyright cartoon characters recently grave-robbed for not-so-fresh IP, now classic literature is apparently fair game for a gruesome glow-up, in this case, Emily Brontë’s regular GCSE-botherer. But Becca Hirani’s laboured reworking makes the book’s gothic subtext crashingly, jugular-spurtingly textual.As in the novel, wide-eyed Mr Lockwood (Ross Townsend-Green) pays a courtesy call to his brooding landlord Heathcliff (Sky Cheema) at Wuthering Heights. But this time, his sojourn is more like Jonathan Harker’s at Dracula’s castle; everywhere he turns, the shrouded phantom of Heathcliff’s beloved Catherine Earnshaw (Elle O’Hara) is lurking, and she leaves an extra dollop of gore on the windowsill in her famous nocturnal apparition. The tetchy host doesn’t do much to put Lockwood at ease – even before he’s trapped in the house by a bubo-inflicting malady. Between the hallucinations, the surly servants, and the weird absence of Heathcliff’s rumoured son Linton, he begins freaking out that it’s a different kind of moors story he’s stumbled into.Hirani puts undeniable effort in getting her plot points to line up with Brontë’s – even if most of the characters, including poor old Lockwood’s horse, meet a much grislier fate. Rationed out in snippets of Catherine’s diary, the confidences of housekeeper Nelly (Nicola Wright) and more random supernatural flashbacks involving Lockwood, the manor’s backstory is rather garbled, though with the OTT hook of Heathcliff as an 18th-century Yorkshire Ripper. Rather than amping up the camp, as the likes of Kate Bush and Emerald Fennell did in their takes on the novel, Hirani plays it straight and dour, mystifyingly so, given the extra stranglings, slashings and pitchfork-impalings she’s chucked in.At the same time, diffident acting undermines the film’s claim as pure slasher fare: Townsend-Green’s jumpy turn feels as if he has strayed out of Jeeves and Wooster, while, despite the Rasputin looks, windy-voiced Cheema is too loose to convince as Byronic bad boy. For much of the runtime, we’re left with too little that makes his conversion to homicidal mania credible, until the last-minute lowdown on his Hellraiser-like scheme for his ward, Cathy (Anna Coupé). Reanimating the corpse of Brontë in this rickety way, this update not only feels pointless, but short on self-awareness or fun. (Phil Hoad)
That said, Gordon counters the narrator’s status by showing the ambitious, ruthless, envious Charlotte in anything but the best light, full of withering slights and maternally over-protective of Anne in particular, refusing permission for a posthumous re-print of The Tenant Of Wildfell Hall (and editing Emily’s poems for publication after her death to boot).Jess Murray’s Emily is an undiluted firebrand, with a temper and potty mouth, but somewhat underwritten by comparison with Anne and especially Charlotte.Nick Patrick Jones’s Branwell can be heard shouting at his father in the background and in his infrequent appearances he feels like a ghost in this play, even before he is consigned to that status.Alongside Jones, Jon Cook, Pamela Gourley and Maggie Smales are on multi-rolling duty, Smales taking the honours with her spoilt child, coconut-clip-clopping carriage driver and biographer Elizabeth Gaskell.Claire Morley’s witty, wily and waspish production is played out with fiery pace and passion on Richard Hampton’s three-sided set of suspended wheat sheafs, page after page torn from books, three boxes bedecked in yet more words and the backdrop of a frame filled with flowers.At its base is a sign reading “Liar” that Stafford’s Charlotte then places around the neck of Rhodes’s Anne, and yet not everything that Charlotte says can be taken as the truth. Literary licence, maybe; playwright’s impish, knowing humour, certainly.The sisters are even more fun company than in Lip Service’s Withering Looks, full of surprises, sassy putdowns (not least of Jane Austen’s face being on a bank note) and sisterly interplay, played out to a soundtrack of Self Esteem, Charlie XCX and Billie Eilish snippets. It could have been deeper, it could have been darker, but that is the one story that has been told before.On reflection, all the Brontë sisters can be seen as the underdog of the title, sisters with blisters, but fighting against cramped writing conditions, the Yorkshire chill that did for their health, and the inequality and cold shoulder of the book world’s stuffed shirts. The “other” here is as much the other side of their story as a desire to put Anne in the spotlight.“Young women judge older women more harshly than anybody else…they are conditioned to,” says the spiky Charlotte, in one of her jibes delivered so deliciously by Stafford, whose outstanding performance is befitting of a professional stage.
‘We moved to Derbyshire when I was 11, so I never took it for granted.‘As a teenager I romanticised the views. Artistically, I loved the idea of a solitary figure against these dramatic backdrops. I studied romanticism at school and college and loved stories like Jane Eyre. I’ve carried that through into my painting in more recent years; the focus on a solitary figure. I think my paintings are quite romantic, but they’re set within the home, with these fabrics and patterns as backdrops rather than sweeping landscape views.‘We used to go rock climbing at Stanage Edge, and Black Rocks near Matlock, which I still do sometimes when I go home to visit my mum or dad.‘Who knows – perhaps having that perspective of climbing up and looking straight down from a height has also subconsciously influenced my more recent paintings.’ (Laura Wells)
Elsewhere, it’s down to questions of interpretation. Willder despairs that so many film-makers have tried to force a love story out of the toxic contortions of Emily Brontë’s “sadistic, gothic revenge horror” Wuthering Heights. (John Self)
This new version of Austen’s 215-year old debut novel is from the pen of Australia’s very fine writer, Diana Reid. She’s played it safe, as has director Georgia Oakley (Blue Jean) A queasy, dynamic camera lingers on the natural world – spiders on stalks, rain on cobwebs, lilies on ponds, light through trees. There are close-ups of unmade-up skin, pores, freckles and long ratty hair – the emphasis on authenticity. But the feature doesn’t have a distinctive tone or voice, unlike Fennell’s Wuthering Heights or Andrea Arnold’s 2011 version of that book. Those films had a strong directorial stamp; this one does not. It unspools a little flatly. Audiences have now been trained to expect something more from their historical lady shows. (Nikki Gemmell)
by Emily BrontëRetold in easy Swedish by Andreas PalmaerBannier CarlsenISBN: 9789179814908 (ebook)ISBN: 9789179814915 (paperback)May 2026Svindlande höjder hör till den engelska litteraturens mest välkända klassiker och är ständigt aktuell, nu senast som storfilm med med Margot Robbie i rollen som Catherine Earnshaw.En kväll kommer mr Earnshaw hem till sin gård med en pojke han plockat med sig från gatorna i Liverpool. Hittebarnet Heathcliff har svårt att finna sin plats i familjen och slits mellan hatet till fosterbrodern Hindley och kärleken till fostersystern Catherine. När mr Earnshaw dör och Catherine gifter sig med en barndomsvän blir hämnden Heathcliffs enda mål i livet.
In her new biography of the unknowable Emily, This Dark Night, Deborah Lutz doesn’t commit the prime biographical sin of trying to make Brontë too easy to understand or relate to. Instead, she asks more questions than she answers.For this reason, while some readers may be frustrated by the paucity of new facts or explanations for why Emily was the way she was, for others (including this reader) this vagueness is the very reason for the book’s success. Weighing in at a mere 264 pages (before notes), This Dark Night is not the door-stopper that habitual readers of biography might be used to. The fact of the matter is that Brontë didn’t live very long (she died of tuberculosis at age 30), and very few traces of her short life remain. Much of what we “learn” here is speculation, gleaned from the poetry, prose, and fragments of writing—sometimes literal scraps as well as minuscule productions that Lutz calls “paper crafts”—that she left behind. [...]Hedging language (such as would and may) predominates here, as Lutz tells us what life in the parsonage was like and describes Emily’s day-to-day tasks, which included “turning” clothes (reversing and restitching them so the less-worn sides faced outward), peeling potatoes, and feeding the dogs, as well as her role in the famous imaginative worlds of the Brontë siblings.Lutz also has to rely on this hedging language when exploring Emily’s intellectual formation in these years. She makes the assumption that the Brontës’ mother, Maria, had “bluestocking ways” and likely read Mary Wollstonecraft based on her membership in various lending libraries, including the Penzance Ladies Book Club, which seems a little too easy, but otherwise sticks to what we can reasonably know or assume. She tells us about Emily’s attendance at church; her time spent in Keighley, where she borrowed books; and her famous wanderings on the moors with her siblings and her mastiff mix, Keeper.To that end, Lutz wisely keeps out of the debate surrounding what Emily may or may not have done to get sent away to school at age 17. Emily and the other Brontës, Lutz reminds us, had a social existence in Haworth and in Yorkshire more generally. They weren’t, as is often depicted, merely hermits living alone on the heath.The mythology of Emily as a free-range “moor nymph” was partly started by Charlotte in her editor’s preface to the posthumous second edition of Wuthering Heights. In her grief, and perhaps also because of an inability to communicate what Emily was really like, Charlotte depicted her genius sister as a kind of feral savant—a “native and nursling of the moors,” as she put it—who was somehow otherworldly.Lutz seeks to remind us that this was not the case by returning Emily to the domestic sphere as well as the “wild workshop” of West Yorkshire that she loved so much. Her Emily is not some weird sprite haunting the landscape, but something even stranger: a real woman. [...]The point is not to bring Emily Brontë down to earth by claiming (as the 2019 show Dickinson did to that later Emily) that she was just like us, all anachronistic feelings and hidden Sapphic longings, but to bring her down to an earth that was uniquely hers. Lutz’s book does just that. Her Emily is a thrillingly earthbound creature, as individual and ultimately as inaccessible as we all are. To think we know her or understand her would be reductive. But to realize that we don’t fully know or understand her is to realize that she is just like us.After reading This Dark Night, I don’t feel like I really know Emily Brontë any better, but I do think I understand her world a bit better—her terroir, the environment she was steeped in and that infuses her verse and prose. Lutz does not try to explain Emily—rather, she leaves her where she wanted to be, on her own. Lutz doesn’t make her do anything; instead, she wonders often about how Emily might have found her eventual role as the keeper of the Haworth parsonage, but she is careful not to put words in her subject’s mouth.We don’t learn much that’s new about Emily herself, but we do learn what it would have been like to be in her world. Anyone looking for easy answers to Wuthering Heights, a brutal and confusing book, or its strange author will be disappointed—but those readers for whom the mystery is the point will certainly be pleased. (Sarah Chihaya)
It is undeniably easy to frown upon adaptations, especially when considering the strange sense of protectiveness that can come with well-loved texts. But acknowledging this personal adoration is exactly where a fairer perspective lies. It's as Fennell justified with her use of quotation marks in “Wuthering Heights”, these interpretations often never claim to be replicas-they are intimate responses. When speaking with The Guardian, Fennell admitted: “I know that if somebody else made it, I’d be furious. It’s very personal material for everyone.” It was this raw and honest confession that could make one more inclined to celebrate Fennell’s ability to share her own interpretation with so many people. And it would be unfair to say that it hasn’t done the novel’s legacy good, despite tainting some fans' feelings. Sales of Wuthering Heights have surged dramatically amidst the controversial film release, with The Guardian reporting in February of this year that there had been a 496% rise in sales in the UK. Surely, one of the most alluring elements about truly great literature is its ability to spark conversation. Wuthering Heights’ refusal to be read the same way by any two people is exactly what makes it so long-lasting. As Fennell said: “I can't make something for everyone”. (Delilah Salway-Roberts)
As cosy season creeps in, my personal recommendation would be Haworth. Known as the home of the Brontë’s, and the backdrop of the iconic film Wild Child, Haworth is the perfect place for a breath of fresh air. Here you can explore the history of the Brontës, stop for a hot chocolate at The Old Post Office, mooch around the independent shops, and go for a countryside hike at golden hour. (Evie Bettison)
Heathcliff and Catherine from ‘Wuthering Heights’Of all the classic romance novels, Wuthering Heights has the most distinctly gothic feel. What’s more romantic than a character who’s so in love, he (spoiler alert!) begs his lover’s ghost to haunt him? Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi took on the roles of Cathy and Heathcliff in Emerald Fennell’s steamy 2026 adaptation of Brontë’s novel. Their divisive costumes proved you don’t have to go period-accurate to convey all the star-crossed drama. (Julia Guerra, Natalie Arroyo Camacho, Emily Kelleher, and Bailey Bujnosek)
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